Avarice
by Digital Phoenix
Summary: [MarluxiaLarxene] She was his princess, and he was her king, lord and master.


A/N: I'm rather proud of this one. The idea spawned from a very..._interesting_ conversation I had with a friend. It is my third lemon, of my own choice. No challenge here. What's the reason? MarluxiaLarxene is my new OTP, hooray. Also a warning for those who are squeamish, rather graphic smexual content lies before you. You have been warned. So go on, surge ahead. You can more of this from me in the near future. And in case you wonder, I _do_ accept requests if you want a story written so just review and state the pairing and the rating you wish it be, with or without a lemon. No yaoi or yuri though, thank you.

More A/N (Latest): Repasted the entire story on MS Word and corrected all spelling and grammatical errors.

Avarice

The book, _Works of the Marquis de Sade_, snapped shut with a thunk as Larxene placed it back on the table.

The dim light of the full moon shone down into the library. It was a beautiful night.

And she had just gotten a brilliant idea. It was, perhaps, going too far. But it didn't matter. She just liked games. And when the Organization's only female was bored, she loved to play games. It was especially games with her fellow members. Each of them had a distinctly different personality, one that set them apart from the rest. They gave her a wide variety of choices. There were twelve choices, to be precise.

But she loved those with power. The childish ones sickened her; those who had no charm repulsed her. Those who didn't know how to weave words together, how to string them like a beautiful sonnet. She hated them with a fiery passion that stirred her nonexistent heart. Ah, but those with _power_. The Superior wasn't particularly attractive to her; she was against him. And additionally, he was at the main headquarters, whilst she and the others dwelt out their pathetic existences here at Castle Oblivion, ruled by one overlord.

That overlord was her chosen option.

He was _always_ her chosen option. They had come together on certain evenings, vanishing into empty rooms where no one knew what they did; the others didn't care. They knew that she was just his little companion, his partner, his all. Without her his plans could not continue. There was a moment previously in time when she was innocent, just like Namine, but he took it from her. And she hadn't complained. In fact, she had loved every minute of it, loved him overpowering her. But now she wanted to overpower him.

_Pain is as much pleasure as pleasure is pain._

She had seen him disappear through those doors every night, and she knew where he dwelt. She knew where he slept. She knew his darkest secrets, for he shared them with her. She was his princess, and he was her king, lord and emperor. She was the servant, he was her master. It all made sense. She would give her loyalty to no other, for she trusted no other. She had dreamt of doing this to him, making him plead, making him beg her to continue, get on his knees and worship her. Now just a princess, she wanted to be a queen, and she would use her charm to get what she wanted. He had charmed her, now it was her turn.

A pleasant chill touched her flesh as she imagined him crying out her name, perspiration soaking the sheets below them. Only then, could she call herself a queen. No other member here would dare to oppose her, when she hung upon his arm, and he would do anything she asked. No one would ever anger her again, if they wanted to live to see the next dawn. If her pretense fury should flare, a single cut of his scythe would end the foe's pathetic, miserable pain. Being the only woman had its advantages.

His ecstasy would be hers and hers alone.

She started down the long lengths of ivory corridors, ignoring a muttering Vexen as he passed, carrying a rack full of test tubes. She ignored Zexion, who swifted by as fleetingly as a passing shadow. She ignored Axel, who greeted her with a smug 'Hey, Larx.' And finally, she ignored Lexaeus. She didn't think much of him, besides deeming the title '_Silent_ Hero' condemning enough. Finally, she came to a pair of huge, embellished doors. There were ornate roses carved into the marbled pillars on either side of the door, its silvery leaves flaunting her as she lifted a gloved hand and gave the door a loud, resounding knock.

With a loud clang and groan, the doors parted, revealing an ominous, dark corridor.

Larxene entered the passage without a second thought, and with another clang, the doors slammed shut behind her. Immediately, the candles set on the walls sprung to life, casting shadows on the crimson carpet beneath her feet. The distinct scent of flowers wafted throughout the passage, soothing her strained nerves. A small smile graced her lips. She continued down the corridor, catching brief glimpses of vines and leaves carved on the walls on either side of her. She was in his cloister of private chambers.

There were other marbled doors, but she passed them, heading to the end of the passage, of which she was faced with yet another set of double-doors. She placed a gloved hand on one of the gold-plated handles, pushing it down and pulling the door open. She stepped into a finely furnished bedchamber, the air thick with the aromatic scent of roses. The entire ground was carpeted in rich vermillion, with tall mahogany drawers laid at the walls. Candles lined the tops of the wood, flickering, burning. The bed itself stood at the far left, its headboard against the marbled walls. The four-poster bed had ornate designs of creeping ivy winding up each poster, with blood red satin sheets over black silk. The mattress was littered with petals.

Larxene looked around her, taking in the sight.

Then, she saw him. At the opposite end of the spacious chamber, he sat upon a velvet lounge chair, a leather-bound book in his hands. He flipped through the pages cryptically, analyzing each word. When he saw her, he lifted his head to look. There was a slight lift of his handsome jaw, the glint of an eye. He addressed her, his voice a deep, rich growl.

"I was expecting you, Larxene."

For a moment, she paused. He had called her Larxene. Not XII, nor _number twelve_, like he did in the presence of others, such as Axel. She always knew he had a rather obvious dislike for the redhead. The overlord did things with careful precision, unlike the pyro, who preferred to rush into matters without contemplating the results, whether chaotic or worse. She was unsure of herself now, but had gone too far to leave. She gritted her teeth. She had come to play her game, and she would finish this.

"I was wondering, if you'd play a little _game_ with me."

Larxene hinted, moving closer to him. He was amused, and let out a low, resounding laugh, which made the lightest of shudders run down her spine. A smirk claimed his tempting lips as he beckoned her with a gloved hand, putting the tome down with the other.

"I'm _always_ ready for a game. Now, what are the chances of my success?"

"It depends, on how you play it."

Larxene purred, planting herself on his lap and straddling him with quiet swiftness. A gloved hand ran down his left sleeve, and she planted a soft kiss on the nape of his neck with feather light touches, her rosebud lips whispering sweet nothings into his skin. She felt him tremble; he never trembled. His commanding arrogance surrounded him always, and she was faced with it now. But by the end, she told herself, she would break him. That was the sole purpose of her game. She felt his finely muscled chest from under the thin, leathery material of the coat, and she toyed with the silver ornaments playfully, her breath heating his flesh.

She smirked and ground her hips against his slowly, her hands sliding down his arms. It was painfully slow. There was a low, deep growl as the man glared at her, following which he lifted a hand and placed it under her chin, drawing her face to look directly at him. Optics of steely cobalt joined those of defiant emerald. A twisted smile formed on his perfect features.

"So, such are the rules of this game."

Marluxia breathed, before drawing her lips to his in a hungry kiss. Larxene felt the first beads of sweat emerge from the confines of her skin and run down her forehead, and he broke the kiss for a moment's pause, before locking lips with her again. She felt her mouth open on its own accord, allowing his tongue entrance. His right hand, so used to the light grasp of a rose, caressed the nape of her neck gently. They parted, and Larxene felt a pair of strong arms lifting her from his lap. He carried her to the bed, kicking off his boots as he did so, and she did not struggle. The hazy scent of flowers blurred her thoughts. She was losing the game.

Larxene now felt the mattress, soft and welcoming, under her as he placed her on the bed. A lone crimson rose lay beside her. Marluxia picked up the rose and ran its petals down her neck, telling her that this was how the game was really played. A hand moved to the zipper of her coat, and it plunged downward in a fluid movement, exposing her completely to his wolf like gaze. He drew the rose down her milky skin and admired its flawless texture. He removed his gloves and hers along with them, and tossed both pairs of gloves onto the carpet. She felt the comforting silk wrap itself around her, and then he was upon her, drawing the coat aside, off her and throwing it onto the ground.

She whimpered softly as his lips trailed a path from her collarbone until it reached her inner thighs, dancing dangerously close to the very thing she held precious. It had already been done before, but she had not felt the truest; the most _wonderful_ sensation until now.

"Larxene..."

He whispered harshly into her ear.

A long, green vine snaked upwards from beneath the bed and wound itself around her wrist. With a swift tug, it tightened considerably at a snap of Marluxia's fingers. Three more vines curled around her other wrist and her feet, binding her firmly to the bedposts, exposed and vulnerable to each touch of his hand, each flicker that passed his eyes. She could feel his gaze boring into her, and she could sense the stream of thoughts running through his head. He climbed over her, his breath on her neck as she saw a hand slip down her body and go out of sight.

Her eyes squeezed shut and a breathless moan escaped her lips as he slid two fingers inside of her, his lips coming back up her taut abdomen and into the middle of her breasts, kissing the heavenly alabaster skin. She struggled against the bonds that strangled her wrists and ankles as the sensation threatened to overpower her, and she could see that smile on his features. The smug smile mocked her as he withdrew his fingers and lowered his head, his mouth replacing where his fingers had just been. Larxene breathed heavily and arched her back, her chest heaving as he had his way with her.

Finally, she decided that it was time to turn the tables.

White-hot sparks of electricity surged from her body and snapped the vines, and the green lengths withdrew under the bed. Marluxia scowled at her, those stunning sapphire eyes darkening. Sitting up, she grabbed the edge of his coat and with strength he never knew she had, flipped him over. His head was pressed against the pillow as her eyes glinted at him. She took the zipper of the coat with considerable care, and in a split second she had pulled it down, ripped it off him and thrown it aside. It landed on the ground with a quiet flutter.

Her eyes gleamed devilishly.

"Who's winning now?"

Larxene whispered, fingertips gently tracing his collarbone. Those beautiful, slender hands danced their way down his body, eliciting a deep moan from him as they caressed his sculpted chest with the lightest of touches. Constantly holding a heavy scythe as a weapon had obviously been an advantage for the assassin, who now bore a fine network of muscles, rippling under her much-craved touches. They tensed as she slid her hands down his chest, skimming his abdomen with her soft squeals of excitement. She could see his perfect row of ivory teeth grind together as he attempted to resist her teasing. She smirked. He still held on to his arrogance, even now.

"I will _break you_."

She hissed seductively into his ear. Her fingers now lingered at the top of his trousers, slipping inside them and out again, threatening to pull them off at any second. He could feel the sweat start to form, the lingering perspiration. She placed her fingers softly on his arm, and he arched upward into her touch as the tiny spark of electricity raced through his skin. Skilful fingers undid the catch of his trousers, but did not remove them. She wanted him to beg her. Leaning down, she captured his lips in a sensuous kiss, her hands softly stroking his chiseled torso, feeling each breath surge through it. There was no beating of a heart, for he had none. Neither did she. Thus they indulged in such pleasures, knowing that they'd never feel anything that was vaguely real. This was the only reality they had.

He let her do this, because he enjoyed it. He reveled in the rapture they were experiencing, that sinful act.

Then, she pulled his trousers down and off his legs, before throwing them aside like she did with the rest of his clothing. Her eyes shone wondrously when she saw _what was coming_, like the curiosity of a child. His hand ran down her back and downwards, barely touching her thigh. She purred again in pleasure as she leaned down and spoke to him.

"Do you want it _now_?"

She asked sweetly. A deep hiss signified affirmation.

"Not now, flower boy. I will make you _beg_ me. Get on your knees."

Yet another growl rumbled in his throat as he sat up. She leaned back, and with a hot glare, he got on his knees, resting against the soft mattress, his eyes dueling with hers, the tension in the air so much until there was a low hum. Larxene breathed in the dizzying scent once more, before she leaned in towards him, until her face was merely centimeters away from his. "Now, _beg_ me." She breathed. He glared at her, but there was a teasing hint in those eyes. He knew about her theatrical dramatics, and would play along. He would get what he wanted in the end.

"_Please_, Larxene. I can _take no more_..."

His voice came as a dark, breathy whisper, and when she saw what a splendid prize she had acquired, she was sated. She touched his thigh lightly with a hand, letting it go down the length of his need, and enjoying the shudder that passed through him. She wanted it, and very badly at that. But she still had one last thing to do. "You will indulge me, _anytime_ I want it." She said. His reply is a strained nod, unable to bear her teasing. "You will protect me, because I am your _queen_. But you will always be my _king_." Another nod. And then she was satisfied with his submission. She leans forward and kisses his lips, her finger tracing a heart on his chest. Then she leaned back fully, feeling the cool silk once more. Her eyes drifted down, and she spoke quietly.

"Satisfy yourself."

He was upon her in an instant, and she encircled her arms around his waist, her breathing becoming labored and rapid. And with a powerful thrust, she was filled with him, a cry of ecstasy tearing itself from her throat. The mattress shifted beneath her form. He did not speak, but his breath was warm and tingling. Her hands drifted up to entangle themselves in the layered locks of his hair as each thrust became more powerful than its predecessor. She felt him move within her, and she let out sharp moans at his actions, his head buried at the crook of her neck and shoulder. His hips ground fluidly into hers, a perfect match as she writhed beneath him, his flesh hot against her own. Her nails skimmed down his back, and his weight pinned her to her position. Her back arched and fell, and he moved to nip her ear. He was strong; most would not have kept the pace.

She whimpered as he caressed her side gently, the vapor from her breath misting the cool air. The silence hung on, but was momentarily shattered by regular moans and cries, and his low gasps as he sees to her need. Finally, she comes, crying his name in rapture which in turn leads to his own release. His body collapses upon her, and he rolls aside, pulling the silken sheets over both their forms. She moves against him, resting her head against his chest, caressing him in a rhythmic movement, enjoying his shudders of pleasure until the action eventually lulls her to sleep.

The next morning comes in a brilliant ray of shadow mixed with light. It was never truly bright here.

Larxene awoke with a new resolution. She smiled at the man who slept soundly next to her, and she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. The pair of cobalt eyes flutters open, and he wraps an arm around his queen, exchanging knowing glances. The other residents were still asleep. It was not time.

They could still play another game.


End file.
